


Nice to finally see you again

by Loveforthestory



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content, Written for The Good Ship Charloe, charloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveforthestory/pseuds/Loveforthestory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is payback. For all the times he messed with her, played with her, challenged her, made her swirl in want and hate at the same time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nice to finally see you again

‘I am Sebastian Monroe.’ He spits out the words in a last warning growl, as he forcefully fights the ropes against his wrists, losing his fucking shit fast. ‘You get your superior right fucking now.’ His eyes are filled with steal and rage. 

He had fucking enough.

The asshole in front of him moves away from him. Two hours ago he was shoved to the ground. Taken by three Rangers as they took him. If this is one of Blanchard’s, jokes for that little moment where Miles and him wanted and in fact shot him, he swears it will march into his office and tell him exactly what Blanchard can do with himself.

That is, if he gets out of here.

He realises quickly he will get out of here, but that it will cost him big time. He hears a familiar voice, realising this fucked up mess will get sorted out soon.

That is until she walks in. With one confident step at the time, with her weapons strapped around her waist and with a Matheson smirk that tells him trouble has just begun. 

‘Charlie,’ he says with a low voice. Already moving his body so she can reach for the ropes.

‘Nice to finally see you, Bass.’ A dangerous flash in her voice for a moment, choosing those words on purpose.

Holey fucking shit. He knows that trouble has just begun. 

‘And you probably might not heard it, but is Captain Matheson ,’ she purses her lips, as she slowly moves closer to him.

He forgets to smirk, as he sees her standing there, tall before him, as he is sitting his ass down on the chair before her. He sees Miles in interrogation mode, but most of all, and then it is all of her, just her, just Charlie.

‘Vincent, I will take this from here.’ She nods at the man standing at her right, the fucking nobody asshole that took him in, as the guy looks at him with a condescending look, like he is some kind of trash.  
She moves her eyes back to him, as he leaves the room and it is just them now.

Charlie looks at him, taking her time as she watches Bass in front of her. The asshole still looks good after weeks in the field. The war has been going on with full speed. After hearing somebody got caught, and was brought in, she had to see for herself. After seeing who was caught, she could not stay away. 

‘God dammit Charlie,’ he bursts out, growling through the dark shady room, as Charlie realises he has not time to mess with her, this time not choosing the name he usually chooses for her when he is pissed off, now he is not going anywhere and his frustration radiates from his locked jaws and his outburst.

‘Now would be a good time to stop this fucking act.This is not fun anymore.’ His low voice booming through the room, the hairs of his moustache around the lines of his mouth. and booming through her belly. How one man can do so many with just his voice, is something she is not willing to look at. It is just there, like he has been just there.

Her eyes, bright and fucking firing at him, tell him she thinks it is.

‘You fucking tell them who I am, or I swear Charlie.’

She kneels down in front of them.

‘Oh I will tell them who you are, Bass.’ 

The way she pronounces his name, for the very first time, makes his cock wake, stir, twitch, harden.

‘But first, I will have some fun.’ Her blue eyes fire into his with patience and something tells him this is going into the wrong fucking direction, ‘Look at you, I have you all to myself.’ She looks at him, dead calm, ‘General.’

‘A good rope always works.’ She smirks.

She feels the anticipation build up between her legs.

His cock getting more defined under his pants, so close.

This is payback. For all the times he toyed with her, played with her, challenged her, made her swirl in want and hate at the same time.

The hate moved back, as he showed her there was more than the mask. The want however, was raging through her.

Is she really? She couldn’t be fucking serious about this, could she.

Bass looks at her hands, slender fingers that go from his knees, up his legs. Then she stops. Pushes herself up. Stops right in front of his face, her lips now dangling in front of him as his cock grows hard at the way she is drawing this out.

She is not a kid. He called her that many times, to remind him, he can’t give in to what has been brewing under the surface between the both of them. The truth is, Charlie Matheson is not a kid. She is strong, blazing, loyal and able to bring out want in him with her stepping up for him in unexpected moments and their play of letting in, seeing a part of the other in front of them and shutting each other out, hat had his cock aching for her for so fucking long now.

He smells like him, like sweat on a rainy day, like leather, and ego and arrogance and the man that is so constant in her life right now, that her body’s reaction tells her things would be endlessly different if he wasn’t.

She stands before him, as she slowly opens the buttons on the end of her sleeves, giving her space to drop the jacket from her shoulders.

She is not doing this for him, she reminds herself. Taking her jacket of, is for her, getting ready to move further, as something swirls between her legs in the valley right under her belly.

She moves the jacket on a chair behind her as Bass watches her with those steal blue eyes. 

‘Charlie,’ he growls again, a last warning.

She moves back towards him, moving around the chair, her hand going over the back of the chair as she touches the smooth leather of his jacket. His hands still in a knot with the rope behind the chair, bringing out the tension and lines of his shoulders that seem to keep on going endlessly.

Fuck, she is good at his.

Then she is in front of him again as he is all v neck, the tanned skin of his chest that go under the shirt, above it, the lines of his rock hard body before her. She moves to the hem of his shirt, before she changes her mind. 

Her hand moves over his hard chest, as she marvels at how hard he feels, how toned he is, as she always had been trying to figure out how Bass would feel under her touch. And then she does not stop there as his cock is a proud bulge in his pants. She slides her fingers over the curve, over his pants, feeling the outlines of his balls. They are heavy and so defined under the soft skin of her fingers, almost pushing a moan out.

‘Fuck yes, Charlie.’ He growls it out, realising what she is going to do. Realising he wants it. Realising how fucking pathetic he is for giving in, for how she is breaking that part of him that has been able to resist her for so fucking long.

It is the way he is acknowledging her, what is there between them for so long now, her name not as a way of mocking her, teasing her, play with her. It tells her something.

He wants her too.

And he is giving it away right there and then.

She is a woman on a mission, one mission, as she moves on and opens his goddamn pants as he is not sure where to look anymore as she feels the pressure of his pants change.

He can’t help but tilt his hips, his pants sliding down to his ankles by her hands. His cocks is there. His pants have moved over it, keeping it in place, showing her a vein over a long wide strong cock. His pants are now resting on his boots. He sits there, legs wide before her.

The most fucking torture he experiences is all of her there, within his touch, out of reach as she plays with him, her eyes telling him exactly what the hell is going to happen.

And then, she lets his cock move through the palm of her hand, not for him, not to get him off, not to meet his needs, but to test him.

 

He knows she already knows, his weakness. Her. An obscene moan, manly and deep escapes from the back of his throat.  
Bass does not give a fuck anymore. His throbbing cock and the promise of what is going to happen here, his need to burry himself inside of her, the one thing on his mind now as is eyes are almost dark with desire.

She moves out of her pants, hooks her fingers under her panties as they glide down with her. She sees Bass’ eyes shoot to her soaked and humid with desire lips, as he pushes his tongue against his teeth. She looks at this jacket, at him, and waits for him to lock eyes with her before she touches herself.

It is when she licks her lips, Bass needs to fuck her. Now.

It is when Charlie sees raw lust shout through his eyes she realises she does not want to wait anymore.

She moves over to him, one leg going over his lap, her whole body so damn close he can smell her, The sweat, the summer winds from outside, her want for him. 

The fact that Charlie Matheson is here, wanting him, already makes him come right then and there.

‘That cocks of yours looks good Bass.’ A slow whisper close to his ear, as she never loses the eye contact she made with him the moment she walked through that door.

A fast smirk around his lips before his eyes go serious with desire again.

‘Is that so, Charlotte.’ 

Arrogant smug bastard.

She grabs his balls, cups them, not ungentle, but just hard enough to move over the line between pleasure and pain. He is heavy in her hands, as she feels his curls on her lower belly. Stuck with her hands behind her, moving over his balls, and his hard desired eyes and smooth belly and manly hair before her.

It is this intense smirk and shot of desire in his face, that shoots straight to her lower belly.

‘I can think of a couple of things I want to do with it.’ She says, a smirk now around her face, as she feels how the tables turn again and she has him there. All of him, under her will.

When she feels the tip of his head, moving in her first, stretching her, she lets out a satisfying breath. When he feels how wet she is, dripping on him, he lets out a strangled growl.

Slowly she puts herself into motion, finding a rhythm that suits her, and maybe she will let Bass come later.

She rides him, uses the hardness of his chest to give herself leverage.

She hears his balls, she feels his heavy balls against her skin, touching her ass. She speeds up. 

It’s his eyes, of course it is his eyes, that make her come undone.

Bass does everything he can to show some fucking restraint, but with her, it is impossible.

She takes pitty on him, circling around his cock, moving one more time as she sees how Bass looks when he comes.

At the last fucking second she moves away from his cock. He comes with a loud growl in his throat, as the air around the room hits his cock and his come hits her and his skin, the waves raging through him. He is out of breath, as his forehead tilts down against her chest.

Bass wants to kiss her so badly there, an urge to even hold her in his arms, her small frame, so fucking strong, tucked in his embrace, all his. 

But she does not allow that, as she moves away from him.

Not much later, he feels her warm breath against his neck, as skilful hands open his rope.

He hears voices outside the room as he straps his belt and weapons on him, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

She watches him one more time.

‘Good to have you back, General.’

He looks a her, ,a content blush on her skin, a content lazy smile on her lips that he fucking put there. And then she is up the small steps at the door and out of the room.

He moves his hands over his sleeves, adjusting them, rubbing his hands for a moment to get to blood flowing, get the blood moving away from his cock, still hard, or maybe hard again, with her wet sticky sweetness still around it.

Tonight, tonight he will get pay back. He will just have to wait for the right moment. But he will.

Charlie walks out of the old factory mid camp. She smiles, feeling fulfilled, in many ways than one. That was better, or maybe just like she pictured him,. He delivered. He did not disappoint. 

The wind speeds up, as it catches locks of her hair as she moves away from that room, from that chair, from him. From Bass.

She knows it is only the start.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks to the Good Ship Charloe website and for another fun way of sharing stories and writing them. I had a lot of fun writing this one. Maybe I will write a second one? :) Thanks for reading everyone! Now I am off to read great stories!  
Love from Love


	2. Bass'payback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In last chapter, the roles were reversed. There was a pissed of General, and a fierce Charlie, a Bass that could not believe his eyes and a chair.
> 
> Raynedreamer asked me about a detail of that story. Thank you for that, I loved hearing from you.
> 
> Of course I was almost done with the one shot when Bass decided he was thinking about payback and the moment he thought that and I had to write it , I knew there was going to be trouble :)
> 
> Thanks again to for asking me about this. I loved writing it. An extra to the story! I hope I won't be in trouble with the Topsy Turfy managment, because this second part was not topsy turfy. It was Bass who wanted this. Really. And who can say no to that guy? Love from Love

Sebastian Monroe sits in a simple steal chair in the middle of her room. Uniform, legs wide. One hand, with glove, on his right leg.

Scruff on his cheek, moustache above his lip. He has trimmed it back, but the rough hairs were still there to do wonderful things to his face. It were that scruff, full lips, battered by weather and sun and endless worry and his intense eyes that screamed danger and fuck you good until you can't walk that were scrambling for attention.

'Good evening Charlotte, nice to see you again.'

She tried to keep her face neutral, will not think why it is Charlotte again now, sets a line in the sand, the I could not care less you are here Monroe blazing through.

But the problem was she did.

In one second he is out of his chair, switching from stalking to springing into action as he was fast, tall. His arms turning her, his tall body now behind her. He turns her around with so much force that she realises how easily this man can hurt her if he wants to. A reminder of how he never did as the worse he ever did was a defensive blow and his fingers around her arms after that night she wants to not relive, when it was them, breath into warm breath. She gets a look of his determined face and she is equally aroused, filled with lust as filled with brooding intensity he could only provide. The yellow of the tent canvas behind his head. Standing out his dark blonde sun touched hair, his tanned skin and the darker feel of his lips.

Charlie can feel him wide behind her.

Bass is standing wide behind her.

'So, it is all right when you do it to me, but not if I give you some huh?' The crack of enraged flames were around every of his words.

He puts his arm through hers, so that his muscled arm lays between her shoulder blades and her arms, as he knots her wrists together with his hand. He does not need the chair. He was the chair. Keeping her in place, with him.

The promise of his cock resting between.

This is not about what she did earlier to him. About his cock between her thighs.

This is about them. More.

And that is how it always was.

Still is.

He keeps her in a lock.

Let's her breath, watches her breath.

Starts his interrogation.

His other hand moving past her. Scarping her stomach with his scars around his wrists and arm.

'So, tell me something. When you were laying next to me, all those nights. We're you ever this soaked Charlotte?'

His fingers moved roughly and with no mercy but fucking slowly between the sticky thick wetness around her swollen pussy.

'And when it was you, fighting with me, back to back, did you ever wonder how this would be like after?'

He moves his tongue over that sweaty glowing part of her neck with his hand still between fabric and want.

Questions.

So far they are all true.

And then he moves his hand to her neck, his fingers digging deep.

'Don't you ever pull that little stunt on me again, Charlotte.' His voice is cold and rough. But somehow he still takes cares of her, as he still has her pushed and tucked against him with the mixed signals that is them.

Because she is smaller in his arms, he can see the expression change on her face.

 _There she was, his little fighter._ The woman that somehow brought Bass out in the General that was in control. Always.

A fast content grin spreads over his lips before his face changes again.

Charlie does not move although her hips want too. She feels him tall behind her, the mixture of danger and strength. . She hates it how he could and read her. She hates how strong he is to do this to her.

He moves his hand towards the opening of her pants. Roughly opening them. Determined. Slow. Contained lust.

Bass feels her breathing faster.  _Good, baby, you pant for me._

'That blazing stubbornness of yours?' he moves his face a little closer to her neck, not able to resist to take her in, 'You are going to need it.'

Hands are removing her pants.

'Because when I am done with you,' fingers are moving into her pussy and are digging deep, until he turns them inside of her towards that one sweet curve that brought out an involuntary  _oh_  from her, ' you will let go Charlie. How much you have fought me, I promise you, you will, despite of all that hate and loathing you say you have for me.'

He has a map of her in his head, without looking he feels how she guides him through.

Charlie feels her knees feeling lighter, the touch inside of his skilled fingers rushing lust through her core and legs. She wants him to go to hell.

She wants him to take her with her there.

There is nowhere to go but be grateful his lock on her arms so she can stand up straight. That is he is drawing out truths so she does not have to.

'That pussy of yours feels so good, baby.' He says in her ear, his voice dipping lowly.

Charlie stiffens at that line. Hates it how he reduces her to this, plays with her. But hates the softer implication on that last word, hates it how right it could feel under different circumstances. She hates she cares even a fucking second.

She hates how much he thinks of her as his, and she loathes herself for feeling that partnership.

He uses that exact last word to piss her off.

It is her reaction that makes him forget for one fucking second what this is about. His face softens but then hardens again.

She wants to move her arms to remove her top, but he won't give her that room. She is his to move, to touch, to take. Strong calloused skin hands move over her arms, stripping her of her tank and bra. Her pants on her ankles.

His hand is on her belly as he moves them both to the small bed in the middle. He adjusts his grab, he adjusts her weight and moves. Bass plants his foot on the bed as he keeps her close to his lower stomach, her slender cruves against his stomach and chest. She finds chest waiting for her as she lays now between his legs, and with her back against his chest, on top of him as he lazily spreads his body on the bed, the bed shrieking with his weight.

With one tilt of his hips his pants move over legs with honey sand hairs and her legs fall over them easily. His cock in between her legs, moving, twitching, hard. But still so far from where she needs him.

'You thought of this Charlotte, in the middle of the night, when you sneaked off, fingers in those little panties of yours?'

 _Shit._ She curses inside.

When she doesn't answer he grips her harder. Somewhere his fingers have managed to reach for the underside of her breasts as she feels his body under her, so ready to spring into action, the air against her pussy, feeling the sensation of cool air on wet skin. His head glistening in the last light. Surrounding her as silk hard ropes and a chair.

He feels her curse. He already know she has.

And this girl is all tough and strong and his respect for her is damn out of this world. But she is, and never has been good at hiding that.

He had his suspicions.

Know he knows.

She knows, that in that moment, control has moved into want.

She also feels the shift in him.

Bass does not let a lady wait. Surrender is in subtle things and he can feel it. He knows. He knows her inner struggle, her thoughts. She wants him.

His guides his cock. Plants his hand at the back and around her thigh to angle her leg higher.

And then he is inside of her with one tilt of his hips, pushing his back up from the bed as Charlotte Matheson is fucking naked and wet and splayed out over him.

She moans, as he grins a fast grin, the adrenaline of victory pumping through his body when the pumping of lust moves gradually over that.

He has her, Charlotte Matheson is moaning for his cock. Laying splayed over him, her legs falling over his thighs, as he can easily carry her weight.

Charlie moves back, pinned back between his wide arm over her and the man that is moving inside of her, in her mind, in her core.

'You see, I was right about you,' he mutters into her ear, as he accelerates his pumping in to her.

She wants to tell to shut up. Instead she almosts ask him to go faster. A m muffled moan stopping herself. She thinks she might hear him laugh, a lustfull groan in his ears.

Her golden hair is over his shoulder as she falls back in the nook of his neck and his thrusting escalates, slow deep pumps that meet her moan. Until she can't, and she constricts around his cock, letting go, with her legs wide, her whole body dipped around his cock as the weight moves into her orgasm. Her hand the whole time around her clit.

Bass follows her, needing to ride that sweet orgasm of her, as he pulls out, one tempting thought of shooting his load inside of her, and uses his hand to move over her belly and pump his cock into his hand one more time and he shoots warm seed over her belly. Her wetness still around his balls, Charlie breathing heavily on top of her. He shifts.

He plants a kiss in her neck.

She moves an arm behind her when she can move again and moves her fingers to the nape of his neck and around his neck.

Later, she would not need to hide her want for him in control. Would not need the chair.

He would not have to frame her with his arms, play games . Mess with her.

His name would not be a mocking experiment of her lips. The  _baby_  coming from his lips would be real. Something she won't mock him with, something he won't take advantage of, as he sees what it does to her as he mutters that into her neck, the neck of his strong fighter.

They would lock eyes, post fight, after a long miserable days with battling with themselves.

And they would meet. Meet into the other.


End file.
